


Behind Blue Eyes

by orphan_account



Series: Who Said Anything (About Falling In Love)? [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Blood and Gore, First Meetings, M/M, Origin Story, Pre-Slash, Prequel, of sorts, time stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories of a boy, no more than twelve, clutching his dying father in his small, trembling arms, played back in Hannibal’s mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> It has been mentioned in [Always, Your Sweet William](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5269268/chapters/12158564) that Will is an orphan, who met Hannibal and came to be his employee after the fact. This is that story.

The echoes of a small fist pounding against the entrance to his estate had Hannibal's lips curling in irritation. According to his guards, there was a small boy outside, trying to get medical attention for his dying father.

After being informed of the events unfolding outside his front door, Hannibal sent his guards to deal with the predicament, sighing as he thought about the cost of cleaning up all that blood.

He, in truth, had not paid much more thought to the situation, focusing his attention instead on his drawing. Strokes of graphite brought forth an uncanny likeness of The Louvre Palace.  _Perhaps he would schedule in time to reacquaint himself with Paris in the upcoming year._

It was only when a sharp cry sounded from outside that Hannibal found his feet carrying him towards the scene, drawing and future plans left behind.

Another cry let out, and Hannibal felt the beginnings of a growl forming in his chest. Blinking suddenly, he wondered _what on Earth_ he was doing, and scowled at the idea of having such little control over his body.

And yet, when a third cry reverberated off the walls, Hannibal viciously threw the front door open, and immediately stopped thinking.

A small child gazed up at him with the most incredible blue eyes Hannibal had ever seen. Chocolate curls hung in a disarray over the pale, cherubic face. The boy was covered in blood, overwhelming the thorough-bred Alpha’s olfactory senses with _danger-must-protect-don’t touch-protect-run-GO AWAY-DIE_. The father must have been gravely injured protecting his son. 

_How poetic._

There was also a lingering scent of fear, which Hannibal attributed to the boy. It had grown significantly stronger since he and the child had made eye contact. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a sharp intelligence shining through watery eyes. _Ah, that’s why._ The child seemed to be keenly aware of predators. 

_Of course, Hannibal was no mere predator. He was far above the petty back-and-forth cycle of the food chain - he was power incarnate._

He was snapped out of thoughts by a ferocious growl that slowly died out into a whine. Looking to the side, the Alpha took in the sight of two of his guards dragging away the boy’s bleeding father.

Growling at them, Hannibal picked up the dying beta into his own arms, muscles straining as he rushed inside to where he still kept all his medical supplies.

The son trailed behind his heels after he answered a questioning yip with a grunt of ascension. He knew, in truth, there was nothing he could do to help the dying man, but he felt a strong sense of obligation to at least make an attempt.

This was likely because he had never had the option to save his sister all those years ago. Perhaps in helping this man, he would ease not only his own conscience, but the blue-eyed boy’s as well.

Cleaning the wounds the best he could, Hannibal injected the Beta with morphine to at least make the man’s passing easier. _How strange, to be putting someone back together where so many others had been taken apart._

Some time later, the child passed out from exhaustion, and Hannibal finished stitching up the wounds, more for appearances sake than anything else. Far less gruesome to grieve over a stitched up body than a still bleeding one, he figured.

“Please…” the dying man croaked out.

“Shh… don’t talk, you’re only going to aggravate your wounds and cause further damage.” At that, the Beta barked out a harsh laugh, quickly dissolving into a fit of unrelenting coughs.

“I already know I’m going to die in a manner of minutes, Count Lecter.” Hannibal’s eyes minutely widened upon hearing his title stumbling out the other’s mouth. “Yes…I know now where my son has taken me. I’m not a big believer of fate or coincidence, but I find myself with a final request now that I’m in your care.”

The Count wasn’t one to take orders, but he nodded at the man to continue. “My son...he” The father let out another fit of coughs. “He’s special. Please...he won’t last once I’m gone.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. _Where was he going with this?_

“I know I’m asking far too much of you, Count Lecter, but I implore you to at least consider the request of a dying man. My boy is certain to be of interest to you. He...he can see. Will can feel, well, the boy feels everything. He will know all...if you let him see. Will you be his eyes when I pass? No...will you allow him to become yours?”

Hannibal did not answer, the topic of their conversation waking up and subsequently racing to embrace his father. With a short nod, he left the room and closed the door behind him, allowing the father and son to share their final moments together.

* * *

_If Hannibal had interpreted the dying man's words correctly, this boy had the potential to see him as the monster he truly was. More than that, the boy could come to understand him and appreciate his macabre art; see the meaning behind his murder tableaus - the beautiful fragility and inescapable reality of death, and one man's power over it._

_Special, indeed._


End file.
